A Departure from Gate Three
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Aunt Amy has a special Christmas present for Napoleon and Illya who haven't come to terms with their relationship. Warning - suggestive slash A take off of the Twelve Days of Christmas from prompts given


A Departure from Gate Three

To: Jkkitty

Napoleon Illya. And Aunt Amy and she has a special Christmas present for the two who haven't come to terms with their relationship

I love Christmas, I really do. There is just something so lovely and loving about the day. There wasn't a time when I didn't feel that way, even just after my husband died. You would think that it would be a cold bleak world when you've lost the love of your life, but it isn't. In fact, there's something even worse. Not knowing when the love of your life is standing right beside you.

Of course, I'm talking about my nephew and his charming partner, Mr. Kuryakin. So much in love with each other and neither of them able to see it.

I looked down at the small box in my hands and wondered if I'd done the right thing. If I over-thought this or misinterpreted the signs, I could well lose the respect and affection of my nephew. Not to mention Illya's, as well.

No, I knew I was right. This was right and that's all there was to it. I applied a bow to the box and nestled it in the branches of my Noble Fir. Now came the hard part – the waiting.

The phone rang and I hurried to answer it.

"Hello, sweetheart, how's tricks?"

_Oh no._ I thought. Napoleon was calling to cancel. "Napoleon, sweetheart, how are you?"

"Well. Very well, actually. I was just wondering what time you wanted me there on Christmas."

"Oh, thank my stars. I was afraid you were leaving town again."

"Not this year… at least not yet. My boss might have other plans." His boss frequently did.

"And Illya?"

"Well, I had to ply him with memories of your past dinners. It took me all of about thirty seconds to convince him."

I looked over at the tree. There was something else, someone else Illya craved, but for one reason or another, my usually astute nephew couldn't see it. "That's wonderful news, dear. Then I will see you both at one on Christmas Day. That's p.m. by the way."

"I understand, sweetheart. Merry Christmas."

I hoped it would be.

Johnny Mathis was singing his heart about on the stereo and I watched the minute hand creep slowly closer and closer to the twelve on the clock. I'd been disappointed before as Napoleon's employer, Mr. Waverly, had a way of dealing with his problems by giving them to my nephew, but he'd assured me this year, that would not be the case. You see, I'd had a very long talk with Mr. Waverly about the state of affairs and, to my great surprise and delight, he agreed with me. It was time to force their hand, one way or the other.

Five minutes after, there was a knock, Napoleon's knock and I rushed to answer the door. My nephew staggered in, his arms laden with brightly wrapped packages. Illya was just behind him, equally burdened.

"My word! Who else are we expecting?"

"Just us, my Christmas delight!" Napoleon set down the packages by the tree and came back to give me a big kiss and hug. Illya lingered behind, arranging the presents beneath the branches, giving me some private time with Napoleon. He was still a bit shy around me, although I tried to set him at ease. Napoleon reassured me that all was well. It was just Illya's way.

"Illya, I'm so happy you joined us!" I resisted hugging him.

"It is very kind of you to include me in your festivities." There was something very formal about him today and I wasn't sure what had transpired. The last time he'd been here, he seemed more comfortable.

"Nonsense, this is your day as much as it is Napoleon's." At that he looked even sadder.

"I need to move the car. Excuse me." Illya practically ran from the room.

"Napoleon?" I asked after Illya had left. "What did I say?"

"It's not you, dear. He got a call from his folks and I think he's feeling a bit homesick at the moment."

"Oh, that won't do." I wandered over to the stereo and changed the record. During the summer, I'd scourged the shops of Little Russia to find treasures to share with Illya on this day. The records were the best.

I put the first one on and a lovely baritone started to sing _Tikhaya noch_ (Silent Night). I closed my eyes and let the music flow over and around me. The words, so strange, yet so familiar, painted a scene of peace and serenity.

Napoleon came up behind me and hugged me. I leaned back into his arms. "Where did you find this?"

That's when I realized it wasn't Napoleon, but Illya who embraced me. Any shock that I might experience I instantly squashed. "I found them in Little Russia. I wanted you to have a bit of home this year."

"_Spasibo_."

"You are very welcome, dear." The song ended and he released me. I turned and gave his cheek a light kiss. It was damp, I'm sure with snow and not tears. "Now, Mrs. Parker laid on quite the spread this year. Why don't the two of you freshen up and join me at the table. Napoleon, you can open the champagne when you are ready."

The food and wine did much to improve Illya's spirits and by the time we got to the salad course, he'd come alive, sharing stories, some rather scandalous, of his Christmases growing up.

Then came the opening of the presents. There were the usual gag gifts, mixed in among the thoughtful ones until finally we were down to just the one.

I got up and picked my way through the discarded wrapping paper and ribbons to the tree and reached in for the box.

"I have a little something here for the two of you."

"Both of us?" Napoleon sounded surprised, but took the package as I held it out to him. He opened it and took out the tickets. "Airline tickets?"

"Yes, I thought it was high time the two of you got a little free time to relax."

"That's very kind, sweetheart, but Mr. Waverly—"

"Has already been consulted and given his consent. He said it was high time the two of you used a bit of your vacation time."

"It leaves tomorrow night," Illya murmured.

"I know the two of you travel on much less notice. All you need is your passport, your suitcase and the proper outlook."

"What is this place?" Napoleon examined the brochure. "An all-inclusive resort?"

"Yes. Everything has been taken care of. You just need to go and relax."

"I think I could handle that. Illya?"

"A few days some place warm might be just the ticket."

"Then that's settled. Now come and give me a thank you kiss. Honestly, the lengths I have to go to get a kiss or two."

New Year's Day and my head was pounding. I'd been out last night with Esther Myers. Say what you will about her, the woman knows how to party.

In front of me, the color TV was exploding with the colorful floats from The Rose Parade, or maybe it was just my hangover that was responsible for the vibrant colors.

I helped myself to a bit more Bloody Mary, hair of the dog, don't you know? Then the phone rang. I resisted the urge to do my best _Hunchback of Notre Dame_ impersonation and managed to get it before the next peal shot through my aching brain.

"Yes?"

"Hello, sweetheart, how's tricks?"

"Napoleon! Are you calling from the resort?"

"I am… we are." There was a pause. "This is a rather exclusive resort, dear."

"I know."

"And it caters to a certain clientele."

"I know that as well."

"And you discussed this with Mr. Waverly and he understood?"

"Dear, we all understand, with possibly the exception of you and Illya. You just needed a bit of a helping hand to see what the rest of us have known for quite some time."

"I see."

"Did I overstep my bounds?"

"Slightly, but we both forgive you." There was the murmur of muffled conversation. "We will need to have a bit of a talk when we return."

"Then I will see you this week."

"We decided to stay on a bit more. Illya and I have a lot to discuss, living arrangements and the like. Happy New Year… and thank you."

I beamed inside, my headache forgotten. Love will find a way, but there are even times when love needs a little helping hand.


End file.
